Kidnapped
by DarthSukiMomo
Summary: Derek Hale receives a disturbing call. The alpha pack have Stiles, and he knows it's only a matter of time before they grow bored of him. With the sheriff of all people helping him alongside Peter Hale and later the the rest of the pack, he must go save Stiles before it's too late.


Derek was relaxing at the Hale House after a long day of working out, idly rocking on the hind legs of a wooden chair. Peter was gone, searching for more information on the alpha pack that'd come to their town. He was going to check on Isaac later that night (or was 'morning' more appropriate for this time of day?) to see if the beta had been successful in tracking down any ideas of where they were keeping Boyd and Erica.

The alpha didn't have high hopes, but Isaac was quirky enough he just might run into a little luck.

Remembering he'd been meaning to call Scott and ask if the boy had learned anything from his boss, Derek reached in his pocket to grab his mobile phone. As he flipped it open to start going through his contacts, the phone lit up with a call, the annoying ringtone piercing his sensitive ears.

Eyes narrowing as he read the number, he wondered who was trying to contact him; he didn't recognise the number. Sighing, he pressed the green button and raised the phone to his ear. It had better not be a sales pitch, or he was going to pitch the phone across the room.

His annoyance faded as raspy breathing sounded from the other side.

"D-Derek?" The other whimpered.

Eyes widening, Derek quickly asked," Stiles, are you alright?"

Complete gibberish emanated from the phone as the teenager tried to explain his predicament and Derek quietly ordered," Calm down, Stiles. I couldn't make any of that out. Are you alright?"

Seemingly choking on his breath, Stiles started in a hushed whisper," Th-they took my cell phone, and I found one on this dead guy's body, but when I tried calling Scott, he wouldn't pick up. I couldn't remember your number, and I kept getting it wrong, and this really creepy lady who didn't speak english picked up one time, and oh am I so glad I finally dialed your number right."

They? Dead body? "Stiles, you didn't answer me. Are you alright? Who's they?"

"The pack. The alpha pack... They took me while I was sleeping," Stiles answered, skipping over the first question again. "And I thought it was creepy when you appeared in my room in the dead of night, but _fuck_... At least you allowed me time to be presentable before kidnapping me."

Derek was about to protest that he never kidnapped Stiles, but he figured now wasn't the time.

"I'm currently wearing a blood soaked shirt, blood soaked jeans that have _seriously_ seen better days time five, and a women's sweatshirt -covered in blood, blood and something I don't want to know _what_ is- that has ponies on it. Thank god I don't sleep in my birthday suit. Have I mentioned that it's all covered with blood and that I had to pry this off of _dead people_?!"

Derek almost snapped the phone in two as Stiles rambled, disbelief coursing through his veins. The alpha pack had captured Stiles and were keeping him somewhere with dead bodies? Chills ran down his spine. "Stiles, please, are you alright? Did they harm you?"

"Does being battered until you have successively bled enough to fill a gallon jug or more and having a broken arm count as being alright? Sorry if I seem a little out of it... but I think they injected me with something... I can't really tell anymore..."

Eyes flashing red and a growl rising in his throat, Derek cursed the alpha pack for daring to harm one of his own. "Do you know where you are? Anything about where they're keeping you?"

"I think some kind of warehouse?" His voice was slightly slurred, though a normal person wouldn't have noticed anything yet.

"Warehouse..." Derek echoed to himself. "That really narrows it down."

"I'm being kept underground," Stiles elaborated. "That's about all I got."

"Anything else? Even a small detail?"

Stiles' voice was fading out. "I don't think I can... I don't know if... Woah!"

"Stiles, what is it?"

"N-nothing," Stiles said, renewed panic lacing his shallow breathing. "Whatever they gave me... it's changing everything around me. The walls keep shifting and... it's getting really hard to breathe. And everything's dark, but lights keep jumping out at me." With light hysterical laughter, Stiles added," Sorry for freaking out like a wimp, but- Ah, shit! That was..." His voice kept losing clarity and Derek had to focus really hard to understand what Stiles was saying. "You know what that was? Me going out of my freakin' mind!" More laughter turned to silent sobs of fear.

"Stiles, I'm going to find you, alright? Just remain calm. We're coming. Scott, Isaac, Peter... We're all coming to get you out of wherever you are. We can find you," He assured.

"Can you hurry? I really like the thought of sleeping on my own bed and not using this guy's body as a pillow."

Gritting his teeth, Derek affirmed," We'll be there as soon as possible."

"Werewolfy possible, not humanly possible, right?"

"Of course," he was answering as phone suddenly notified him 'call lost'. Derek cursed and glared at the screen like it had personally failed him. He didn't dare call back; the pack would hear any kind of obnoxious ringtone, and Stiles would probably be hurt even more.

Thumb urgently tapping keys to get to Scott's number, he pressed call and placed it to his ear. He'd never wanted the other to pick up the phone so bad. Sure, Scott pissed him off with the chronic need to switch from being a part of his pack to going alone, but he needed help with this and was going to network everyone he could.

On his third attempt of calling, he still failed. Derek growled, but moved on to Isaac. Before he could even press call, heavy knocking assaulted his front door. Fangs bared, he stomped to the door to swing it open. What could be so important that it couldn't wait 'til later in the morning?!

As the door revealed who had knocked, Derek cooled down a little. Anxiety tripled, but at least the man was important. "Mr. Stilinski," He said curtly with a slight nod.

"What have you done with my son?" The sheriff asked with angry tears threatening to spill.

Derek jumped at the accusation. Of course, he shouldn't be so surprised. Why else would Stiles' father pay him a visit at one in the morning? "I didn't-"

"I come home to someone vandalizing my front door with some strange triangle that reminds me of your tattoo, and my boy's room is torn to shreds. I come here, and see the same exact symbol on your door. Your gang? I'm only going to ask once more before I have a full squad come- Where's my son?"

"Mr. Stilinski, I don't have your son, and I'm actually trying to save him right now. You're kind of in the way."

"Save him? So you know where he is?"

Derek grimaced at the now slightly hopeful expression, knowing full well he was about to break it. "No," He admitted," I'm going to search for him though. I was going to gather my... group, and find him."

Eyes squinting, Stilinski said," I know you're hiding something from me, something big. If you think you can keep me from helping to find my son-"

"Actually, You might be really useful," Derek muttered to himself. "You'll have to know more obviously. Well, better late than never." For the first time in his life, he was truly worried. Stiles' safety was at a critical low, and if them having only tortured him a little was a godsend. If they didn't find Stiles soon, he was probably dead, and it wouldn't be a painless death.

"This is going to be hard to believe, but-" Derek stopped himself and suggested," You might want to sit down." He gestured to the staircase, since there were no chairs in sight. The sheriff sighed and accepted the offer. "Your son's friend, Scott, and I are werewolves, and Stiles helps us with supernatural enemies. Now, an enemy pack has kidnapped your son. That's their symbol, and they marked our doors to let us know who they are and that they mean business."

Mr. Stilinski just stared incredulously at him. "You expect me to believe that you're a werewolf?"

Eyes glowing, and claws coming out, Derek howled, letting his need for help sink into the loud call. Fangs snapping wildly in the air to add to the effect, he was surprised to find that the sheriff didn't even seem phased.

Sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, Mr. Stilinski admitted," I knew something had been up with my son and his friends a while ago, and especially after the Daehler case, I pieced it together myself. I couldn't believe it, but it lined up perfectly with magic and myth."

Derek was mildly relieved that it went so easily, it sped up the process. "The alpha pack has kidnapped Stiles. I don't know why, but I plan to find out. I'm going to start with getting my pack together and searching his room for scents. It's all I've got right now, and we don't have time for better. He could be dead in hours."

"Well, you're not going to find much. He went missing last night, and I've already had a search team sent out. The dogs couldn't find a single whiff of anything." Pain was visible in his eyes at the gloomy estimate on his son's lifespan.

"I have to try," He said as grabbed his keys off the nearby table and went to leave for the Stilinski house. The werewolf didn't need to turn around to know that the human was following him; the stink of fear for his son reeked and was on the move.

"Derek," Peter said as he walked up to their shared home. "I heard your call. What was that about?" An amused smirk was on his face. His phlegmatic gait and calm expression displayed he obviously didn't understand or care about the severity of the situation.

"The alpha pack has Stiles," the raven haired man answered without hesitation, walking passed his uncle on the way to his car. He grimaced as he realized Peter was supposed to be catatonic in a hospital, and the sheriff was probably given a missing report on him.

The older lycanthrope pulled his mouth into an exaggerated frown and said," That can't be good news." His nephew now had to followers.

"You're Peter, Peter Hale," Stilinski said with scrutinizing eyes. "You're the missing patient... but your burn scars..."

"Very observant... Sheriff Stilinski I presume?" Peter said, guessing from the rank of the officer and the scent of his son that they were family. "Sadly, that's a story for another time, I'm afraid. I won't be going anywhere soon, hopefully, but your son is in grave danger."

"Peter with me. Stilinski, meet at your house in five?"

"Breaking a few speed limits, but luckily you have a police escort," The sheriff agreed, hopping into the police car and starting it up. His fingers fumbled with the radio quickly to turn off the happy song as he turned on his lights.

The two cars were racing for the human household without further ado, blue and red lighting their way.**  
**


End file.
